Falling Rapture
by le jen
Summary: When past collides with present, the happy reality loses its rose-colored glasses, and things truly come into focus.
1. Prologue

HOEKAY.

So this is what yew've all been waiting for.

New stuff for me, I've never done angst or any of that stuff, so be patient with me, and** I LOVE CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM!!!**

And I'm sorry this isn't more meaty, but trust me, it gets all protein-ed up here in the next little bit.

BEAR WITH ME. ON A WHITE FUR RUG. NEXT TO A FIREPLACE. MAYBE WRAPPED IN A FLANNEL BLANKIE. AND A CUP OF BAILEY'S WITH A SPLASH OF COFFEE.

Yeah. Something like that.

**ALSO. I'm a fucking college student. I have taken on a FUCK ton of work. If yew beg, I'll wait longer to update. and trust me. I am procrastinate extraoridinaire. **

MAD UPS to mah beta, dead inside. She fucking rocks my shit to make it the best ever. And AMELIA (smellyia) gurl, i cannot express the gratitude that I have fer yew. It makes me want to knit yew a sweater from wormsilk with the litter 'M' on it to match yer pompoms that yew shake in mah face when I say I suck . . . at writing. bc we all know that I am a good sucker. Better than a Blow-Pop. ---oh the possibilities for an innuendo. but i'll let it alone. FOR NOW.

le sigh.

This is for all my gchat 'gina's: WITHTHEfuckingVAMPSOFCOURSE, JANDfuckingCO, CfuckingDUNBAR, RIAfuckingLIE (ily4l), OCD_fuckingINDEED, ACIRfuckingAMOS, ANGfuckingEL, BETHAfuckingBOO, GUINEAfuckingPIGBARBIE, BITTENfuckingEV, KfuckingHOAR, GUSTARIfuckingANA, LIMfuckingONA, LIONSfuckingLAMB, RfuckingEAH12, SARAHfuckingJAYNE. all yew bitches. yew really do hold places on mah body. a little boob, a little labia, a smidge of the nipple, mah lips, ya know. the basics. lolz.

Wiffout furzer adeiu, ze story.

* * *

Prologue

First snow of the season.

The forest beds were covered in a light blanket of pristine snow; the leaves had finished their turning and were now starting to fall, occasionally spoiling and disrupting the constant white flow that graced the earth early this morning.

Oak Falls, Washington looked as if it had fallen out of a Thomas Kinkade painting. The townspeople ran all amuck, buying presents for their loved ones in anticipation for the coming holidays. The seemingly constant silent rush enticed throughout the small sleepy town was a picture that would have made the people of Pleasantville a little nauseous. Oak Falls prided itself on being a settlement that thrived on its marina, small businesses and hole-in-the-wall diners, the streets patrolled by only a police force of 50 men.

The town lies about two hours north of Seattle, and about a half hour away on I-5 from the Canadian border. Its quaint little fishing town mentality is one if it's signatures, no use for a vehicle except in the winter when the roads are slicked with ice and snow. In the summer, the townsfolk use their bikes claiming that 'there is no use in a car when you have two perfectly good legs.'

With a population of fewer than two thousand people, everyone knew everyone's business: a gracious blessing and a horrid curse.

The home of Edward and Bella Cullen was situated at the end of Semblance Circle, the fifth house on the block. It held a rambunctious six-year-old, Everett; his mother, Bella; and his father, Edward. The three were among the few young families that lived in Oak Falls. The house itself was a small cobblestone home; mall white fenced porch on the left side, and to add some finesse, Bella had painted a red door. All it needed was a thatched roof and it would be _Little House on the Prairie. _

Edward worked for the county, always reviewing the county owned lands, attempting to make room for more inhabitants. With the false security of a God complex, he deemed which land is not suitable for building upon or he had the ability to build-up land that could be salvaged and any other projects that come with the title "Zoning Commissioner". Always a sucker for a heart-felt 'please' Edward ended up doing a lot more work that what he had anticipated when taking on the job. His boss, Harry Clearwater, was always one to use this tid-bit of information to his advantage.

Bella stayed home and enjoyed writing to keep her day busy; some say that she had the promise of being a new Jody Picoult. She managed to land a publishing deal for two books. One of which is hot off the press and waiting for her signature on the first copy, the other, she had just begun writing. Bella usually seemed busy with well, everything. Writing, being Everett's mother, an active volunteer in the PTA and the three time "Best Chili Recipe" title holder, Bella lived the life she always dreamed for.

Everett, the precocious six year old, was one of a kind. He dressed according to his mood and what kind of hero or character he wished to be. One day a police officer, another a doctor, later on a cowboy, or an Indian or firefighter. The child's imagination was relentless and Bella, good dedicated mother, always trying to make his "costumes" as realistic as possible in order to pacify his mood swings

Gazing upon them, they are the picturesque family.

Edward drove down Semblance Circle, in the family's new Audi Q7 SUV, complete with towing package for Oak Falls' unpredictable weather. He shifted happily, humming to the background sound of Iron and Wine playing, conjuring the sweet image of his wife and son waiting for him at home. After his long day at work, seeing his beautiful wife's smile and his son's exuberance was just what he needed.

Edward pulled into their home, sat in his car, and watched his wife flit around the house, probably telling Everett that he needed to clean up the kitchen table from his annual Letter to Santa. In intensive concentration, Everett showed habitual signs of his mother and father, furrowed brow, little hands grasping at the roots of his hair, while simultaneously sucking and chewing on his bottom lip. He always insisted on making homemade construction cards for Santa, complete with paper snowflakes, foam designs of white snowman's, a drawn bulbous head with antlers and a red pom-pom nose for Rudolf. This year was no exception; he started early stating that "I can add to it when I find stuff that I want. That way, I have a better chance of getting everything."

Edward smirked and sprung up onto the porch with a renewed vigor, anxious to hold the woman with whom he was irrevocably in love, and to swing his son around and hear about his day at school: which girls he kissed on the playground at recess and what the daily saying from _Aesop's Fables_ that he learned.

The family was the epitome living example of Norman Rockwell's work, complete with the looks of blissful love, admiration, and total and utter happiness.

But when past collides with present, the happy reality loses its rose-colored glasses, and things truly come into focus.

* * *

Yeah, that's it. Hopefully the chapter will be up on sunday. depends on if I get the time to do it.

Do it. Do it.

Sorry, dodgeball reference.

. . .

gimme some gratification.


	2. Chapter un

M'KAY. this is chapter deux.

Things start to get a little bit interesting.

YOU GET THA MEAT. GOOD FOOT LONG HOT DOGS FROM THOSE HOT DOG STANDS IN CENTRAL PARK.

It has also come to my attention that I, myself, am rated NC17, so were as my content isn't vulgar or whatev's my AN's are.

AS ALWAYS. YO. siDEADde, makes me seem smarter than a fart, and smellyia inflates my ego. and He likes it. (yes my fucking ego is a man and he LOVES amelia.)

Always this goes to yew readers who fucking APPRECIATE fanfiction.

CLAIRE AND CHRISTINE. I LOVE YOU BOTH CON MUCHO. TRES BIEN. ROAD TRIP.

And from here on out, i'm gonna HOPEFULLY be able to post every sunday. HOPEFULLY. it's all contingent upon my school work and what my professors want me to learn.

OKAY.

AND WE'RE OFF.

*********

EPOV

I plopped down at my dining room table with all of my blueprints, memos and printouts of the city to try and figure out how I could change the zoning lines for this year's Christmas light celebration. In three weeks the city has held its annual Christmas light festival where all the townsfolk exhaust themselves by decorating their homes and yards with lights, Santa decorations, Nativity scenes, and reindeer landing strips. The city sells tickets to "Ride in Santa's Sleigh"— three old buses matted with hay and heated blankets to tour the county to 'ooh' and 'aww,' then eventually, vote for the best Christmas display.

A quite monotonous event, but Bella and Everett loved to do it, so every year I forked over the thirty dollars for us to 'ride in Santa's sleigh.'

However, this year, the county commissioner had asked me to find new zoning areas for parking. Because I'm a pushover, I agreed.

"EDWARD! COME OUT HERE AND HELP ME DECORATE THE HOUSE!" My wife yelled from the front yard, successfully making me jump and scatter the papers I was holding in my hand.

"I CAN'T, LOVE. I'M WORKING ON THE ZONING STUFF FOR HARRY," I replied, hoping the information was relayed via the high decibel.

She peeked her cute little head and bright brown eyes inside the door to speak at a more comfortable level.

"Edward, put it down and come out here. I need help." I heard her stomp her foot in impatience. I smiled in spite of her annoyance. _Cute little kitty cat._

"Bella, I can't. I have to get this to Harry by Monday morning, and I'm barely half-way through." I whined half-heartedly.

"Please Edward; you know that ladders scare me." She started to plead. I couldn't help her, and I bet she'd use that damn lip. _Don't look up at her, Cullen. Don't do it. That cannot happen. I don't want to waste my Sunday afternoon sweating over this crap._

Growing agitated at her infantile arguing, I answered snidely. "No, Bella. I can't, I have work to do."

"Fine. I'll just do it by myself." She huffed at me and walked back outside.

"You were gonna end up doing it by yourself anyway." I muttered, obviously too loud.

"WHAT WAS THAT EDWARD ANTHONY MASEN CULLEN?!" _Oh no, all four names._ I slumped in my seat a little further. This was going to be bad. "Did you just mumble something under your breath? Because it sounded pretty close to 'you were gonna end up doing it by yourself anyway.' That's right, slump farther in your seat, 'cause this is not something that I am backing down from. This is a tradition for us, Cullen. Did you plan to help me this year? Ya know what, you're right. I am going to do it this year ALL BY MYSELF." She stopped and began to huff in anger. Then, with renewed vigor and wide-eyed realization, she started again. "Oh, you know what, I might just call Mike. He is _always _willing to help me with _anything. ANYTHING that I need._" She used her sweet voice when was charming the crotchety old Mrs. Williams and walked toward the phone and began to dial.

_OH, FUCK NO_.

She got me so riled up; she knew yelling at me wasn't going to assist in solving our problem. If anything it only escalated it. Bella knew I hated that fucking Mike guy. The stupidest bar-owning, stoner-loving, creeper-walking mongrel that has EVER lived here in this damn town. Plus he basically eye-raped my wife every time we saw him. Like _hell _she was going to ask him to come over and help with _our _Christmas decorations.

"Bella put the damn phone down. Now." I spouted vehemently at her.

"NO!" she shouted back, "Oh, hey Mike. What are you up to today?"

I began to make my way over to her.

"Um, well I was wondering if you would come over here. . ." I ripped the phone off her ear and out of her grasp and started my rampage.

"SO I COULD RIP YOUR HEAD OFF AND SHIT DOWN YOUR NECK! FUCK. OFF. MIKE." Then I proceeded to throw the phone across the room where it busted into three thousand little pieces against the mantle of the fireplace.

"What the _fuck_ was that for, Edward?" Bella spat.

"You will never, ever call him _ever_ again. Do you understand me?!" I yelled back, inches from her face.

She shrank back, and clenched her jaw. She looked at me with those damn big-ass eyes of hers, and deadpanned, "Yes, I understand that you are so far stuck up _your_ own ass that you couldn't stand to have a little bit of_ competition_ and that your duties to Harry are _more important_ than your duties to your _family._ I'll be outside hanging the lights that _you_ don't have the time to do." She began to walk out the door but turned at the jamb and said "I'm sorry that _I_ interrupted _you."_

With that she flew out the doorway and left me feeling more like shit than I ever had. I couldn't go look at her, and tell her that I was sorry. I _had_ to finish these zoning routes for Harry. I turned and sat down, fully aware that my tail was firmly tucked between my legs.

I tried to tune out all that had happened, but I still was hurt. I felt horrid for what I said and how I acted. I begin to work on the routes and listened as Bella warned Everett to be careful, when Everett squealed in delight while playing with Connor, Emmett and Rosalie's son.

Emmett had been and was still my best friend since junior high. He and I were quick friends. With his brawn and unalarming boisterous personality it was always incredibly difficult to not like him. Rosalie was his long time college girlfriend. She still could silence him with one look or a single word. Not even Emmett's mother was able to do that; and that woman knows how to make a man cry.

After about an hour of losing myself in elevations and bisecting circumference intervals, I heard a blood curdling scream that generated from my front lawn. A scream that sent my heart into overdrive and my brain into hyper-active.

I jumped up and rushed out to the front lawn not knowing what awaited me. I mentally braced myself for whatever may come.

Nothing could have prepared me for the scene, nothing. No breathing, no amount of anticipatory training. Not watching Everett fall and break his arm last spring, not watching my mother break down after finding out she lost her child, not even losing Aro, my grandfather. Absolutely nothing would have had me practiced enough to breach this amount of uncertain dry, raw aching that stole my breath.

When I saw Everett standing over his mommy, frantically waving his hand in front of her face asking her if she's okay, my stomach rolled, eyes blurred, my throat tightened and I began to feel light-headed. I surveyed the grounds and realized that the ladder had fallen haphazardly on the ground, a string of lights half-hung from the roof, and Bella lay deathly still beside the debris.

I ran with all the strength that I possessed, to my crumpled wife, still unresponsive on the ground. With each passing step, my stomach was sent further to the ground from dread or guilt, I knew not which.

"Connor, go home, tell your Dad to get here." I sent the little boy running to his house.

"Everett, get Daddy's cell phone and call 911. You remember how to do that right?" I frantically implored wide-eyed. He nodded at me.

"Bella." I murmured. I so desperately wished that I could hold her, but I knew that if I moved her, it could mean the difference between her living and dying; walking or being in a wheelchair for the rest of her life. The accumulating itch in my hands and upper body called to me to pull her to my chest and rock her back into consciousness. It was so overwhelming that I began to rock myself to suppress the urge.

I checked her pulse, and prayed that it was strong like her will. I looked over her body for any type of broken bones or missing pieces and concluded that she had a broken leg, evidenced by the bone sticking out of her over-alls, and a broken arm.

After my amateur assessment, Emmett came running over to the house asking me what had happened. I looked up and, I couldn't see anything but a blurred version of my best friend. I swiped at my eyes and noticed the moisture there. _I don't deserve this release of emotion. It's your fault._ I sucked it up and told him that she fell off the ladder.

"What in the fuck was she doing up on the ladder?" he bellowed.

"I had to finish something. She couldn't wait to hang the lights." I breathed, completely defeated.

The sirens broke into my wallowing and I decided to get Everett out of the way. Dad duties came into play.

"Daddy," my little guy looked up at me with wide eyes, "Daddy, what's wrong with Mommy?" He asked.

"I don't know dude, I don't know. I do know that she fell and hit her head, so she might be sleeping. The doctors at the hospital will know what's going on." And then out of my periphery, I saw as Emmett got into the ambulance and spoke to his colleagues.

"Hey, Em!" I hollered. "Em, can Ev ride in the ambulance?" I looked down at my son, and saw him look at me with complete excitement, and I gave him a forged half lipped smile. He really was the only reason why I wasn't a crumpled mess.

"Yeah, little man. Hop on up!" he reached for him and Everett had that smile that made me want to give him the entire world.

"Uncle Emmett, I get to sit on your lap!?" he wondered aloud, "THIS IS SO COOL!"

"Ev, be a good boy and listen to everything that Uncle Emmett says. Okay dude?"

He nods enthusiastically. I turn to jump in the back with the other EMTs and my wife. The eight minute ride to the hospital was the longest that I'd ever experienced.

The entire ride, I only paid attention to her. Her brow, slightly furrowed, her delicate nose, the supple lips, her cute little chin, the curve of her neck, the rise and fall of her chest. The one place where she held my heart, I could hear the gentle thrum of it almost two feet away. I continued the descent to her arms, the way they tapered down into delicate hands that at the moment were limp, the flair of her hips, and down to the worn Vans that housed her equally delicate feet.

I made the trip back up her entire being noticing that her hands had unclenched, and I saw the single physical thing that tied us together. My ring, the one I gave her almost seven years ago. Engraved with my promise to her: "Always."

The only thought that occupied my mind was the first time she said those words to me, 'Always. I will be here always.'

******

I sat and stared. I sat because there was nothing else to do. I could no longer feel. I could no longer think. All I could do is sit here and stare. There was nothing here of interest to me. Except her.

She was here. Therefore I was here. I went where she was. People have often said that your spouse is the "reason for their existence" Well, she isn't the _reason_ for my existence, she _is_ my existence. When she feels, I feel. It's almost as if I were her own personal empath. She cries, I cry. She laughs, I laugh. She gets angry, I get angry. She lusts, I desire.

We were completely in tune with one another and _that_ was why we loved so hard and fully.

The real "reason" for my existence was sitting in the chair playing with his Transformer. Full of innocence and blessed ignorance, and now harbor for a portion of my jealousy. The one thing that she would willingly gave her body for. Him. My son.

I dropped my head to look at my feet since they didn't return my stare with guilt, worry or anguish.

_How could I let this happen?_ I questioned. I felt the bile and the tears well up in my throat, and I pushed them back. I should be allowed a sign of weakness, but I was obligated to remain strong for Esme, Carlisle, and Everett.

I was furious at myself for failing to do my only solitary job as a husband. Protect. To be the shield, the safeguard. To protect my family from harm and militant attitudes and people. To protect my wife from sickness and danger, and protect myself from selfishness. I broke my vow. To her.

"Mr. Cullen?" the young, seemingly pompous doctor asked. I glanced down at his name tag and it said Dr. Gerandy.

"Yes?" I responded, prodding his face for any sort of hope.

"May I speak to you for a minute?" He asked with a steel mask in place. I nodded. "Please follow me." He turned.

I chanced a glance to my father, a physician himself, and he looked confused.

I followed the young doctor down the hall and into a secluded corner where he turned and looked at me with sad eyes.

"Mr. Cullen, your wife came out of surgery beautifully. She had suffered much damage to her occipital lobe but we were able to contain the swelling. However, she is in a coma. The swelling has put a lot of pressure on her brain and the part that keeps her long term memory. If she wakes up, she will retain some memory loss. We don't know how much, but that is all we can tell you right now. Mrs. Cullen also has a broken arm, her ulna, and a broken femur. She will require much physical therapy and patience. But overall, she is in great shape."

His whole speech brought me closer and closer to tears, so that, by the end of the last sentence, I was completely weeping and grasping his coat for stability.

"Thank you doctor, for everything." I gasped out, silently pleading for him to hold me steady.

"You're welcome, Mr. Cullen. I suggest that you go and tell everyone the news. If you need anything I'll be here until midnight."

"Can we see her?"

"Only one person at a time is all we ask, so only your son may accompany you into her room. We'll keep her in ICU overnight and if things continue on their path, she will be moved to a less restricted private room."

"Thank you again, doctor. Thank you." I said, grasping the man's hand and trying to convey all the gratitude that I could through the one gesture.

We waited for Bella to come out from under the anesthesia, and it felt like when we had stayed up all night waiting for the new millennium: anticipating something monumentous only for it to be a killjoy. With every step that I took towards the recovery area, I got more nauseated, and broke out into a clammy sweat.

I rounded the corner and I fell to my knees for the second time today. There lay my wife, my whole world, bruised and beaten, hooked up to all kinds of medical tubes and machines, essentially monitoring _my_ life to determine how much I felt.

All I could do was stare at her, and silently beseech God to bring her back to me.

Being _me_ back to myself.

As ICU visiting hours were coming to a close I knew that I needed to get Everett out of the hospital. Today's been a long day and he's been here awhile, probably bored out of his mind.

Now, I was becoming a shit father all because I couldn't be strong enough without her here to help me.

"You ready to head out, Ev?" I asked.

"Finally." He muttered. Another kick in the gut.

I bent down to kiss her goodbye, telling her that we were heading home to eat dinner and get bathed. But I noticed that she was crying. As I tried to soothe her, and tell her that there was no reason to cry, I noticed that the tears seemed to cease.

"Much better, love." I spoke in my most reassuring tone. Whether it was me or her that I was comforting would forever be a mystery. I reached up to smooth her hair out of her face, reveling in the fact that it was still silky- soft and beautiful even though it still had remnants of sweat and iodine left in.

I, again, leaned up to kiss her on the forehead, and I watched as tears dropped from my face to hers. I was the one causing the beautiful deity to cry. _She_ wasn't crying._ I _was. I gazed and fell captive to the journey that the droplets of water had taken, dropped from my eyes, onto her cheek, along the surface of her pale skin, and back toward her ears. It seemed as if they carried a "come home" message for me.

Upon leaving her I said the one word that she had once told me would bring her through anything, and then we left.

"Always."

**********

SEE! meat. like steak or hot dogs but not chicken.

Yeah, i know a little heartbreak.

What will Edward do now???


	3. Chapter deux

**HERE WE GO AGAIN.**

**beware yew might wanna grab some tissues.**

**OH and SKYPE is probably the fucking coolest thing since my tom-tom. really. That shit is fucking AMAZING.**

**CLAIRE. I LOVE YOU BB _TRÉS TROP_. CHRISTINE. WE MUST CHAT. STOP WORKING SO GODDAMMED MUCH!!!! lulz. **

**and this is for my asshole wall-mate who decided that a fucking rave was in suit this morning at fucking 7:30a. and it's still goin on. did i mention that where my bed is, is where her fucking desk is? yeah. so i get to hear ALL the shit fuck little fun scratches and shit that makes up the horrifically fucking retard music. "hey let's huff some insect repellant and play with glow-sticks like VLAD AND PETER." NOT. **

**DON'T DO IT. IT MAKES YOU STUPID-- really. it does. **

**okay. back to the story. **

**as always. siDEADde is the best beta i could ever ask fer. she's the superman to my clark kent. **

**smellyia. i love you dearly. and rob sightings will be had.**

**GO STEELERS.**

* * *

EPOV

The rest of the week passed in slow immeasurable turmoil. I was haunted by the image of my wife, helplessly sprawled on the ground, while I sat perfectly healthy beside her bed. I parked myself there every morning and bowed my head in shame or disgust or remorse or, the feeling that had taken residence today, guilt.

We were visited by almost all of Oak Falls: some just to get the best gossip, some to truly offer a hand around the house, some just to pass the time.

The only good thing that had come out of this experience was that Renée had come here to stay with us, to help me out. Because I still couldn't do it by myself. Renée was Bella's mother and I believed she still harbored ill feelings for me.

The first time her and I met, Renée wasn't too happy to know that I was dating her daughter. She is French-Canadian, and usually carried on her conversations with Bella in French. I, of course, caught the unmistakenable mention of_ Eduard, _followed by some words that she punctuated with a disdainfully sour face. Bella would never tell me what was said during those conversations, only stating that "she just likes to bring up past issues." When I questioned those issues further, her only retort was a mimicking version of Rafiki, the crazy monkey from _Lion King_, "doesn't mattah, iz in de past."

Even though she attempted to swath her past with jokes, I still saw the flicker of uncertainty or pain and sometimes disgust that followed that four letter word.

I was excused from work for the next week. I attempted keeping up appearances, but when Seth found me sobbing at my desk, I decided that appearances would be damned. I was called into Harry's office and he said he didn't want my mood to affect the atmosphere of the working environment. I understood, but it was still another low kick in the gut.

After that incident, I grew to realize the signs of my crying. My jaw clenched, cheeks burning, nostrils flared and I squeezed my eyes tight as if to hide the fact that my tear ducts are leaking.

I stayed with her almost every hour of every day, because I go where she goes. Renée was staying at our home taking care of Everett in the afternoons, because I could barely look at him without seeing her. I found myself wanting to wrap him in a strong embrace just to feel the love that she gave to her little child.

My child.

Eight months, 26 days, and 14 hours her dainty body nurtured him. And now, almost 6 and a half years later she still hadn't stopped helping him grow. Granted now, it was at a distance, but she was still there, teaching him not to talk with his mouthful, or sing at the table, to open doors for girls, and to say 'please' and 'thank you' as well as 'yes, ma'am; no ma'am' and 'yes, sir; no sir.'

At least she was. Before I became an imbecile.

He still didn't understand fully, but he knew that mommy was sick. She slept so that her body could heal, but he didn't quite grasp the severity of the looks that the townsfolk give our family. Or why people showed up with casseroles, or the fact that so many people came to visit mommy while she's sleeping. From the colorful 'get well' balloons, flowers and his daily creative art that is scattered around the room, he does know that mommy's room is the best decorated room in the hospital.

He didn't understand why daddy has been emotionally MIA. He didn't understand that it should be daddy in the bed, not mommy. He didn't understand that we may never see mommy smile, or hear mommy laugh, or mommy in her silly "if the cook ain't chubby, the food ain't good" apron.

I wished that I could 've been as ignorant as him. I'm jealous;—I couldn't just brush off the guilt and the appalling self-loathing that I was consumed with every minute that I was around her. And I couldn't leave her side, because if I do, then I might miss one a sigh or a slight smile or any one of those little physical things about her that fell in love with.

I continued to sit in silence, head still bowed in shame. I counted every breath as if it would be her last and the insistent beep of the monitor signaled me that she is still here, _somewhere. _I tried not to think about where and how to get her back here. I listened to the rushing footfalls of the hospital staff, busy with patients that aren't in a coma because of their selfish husbands.

I heard Everett's quick- paced, cowboy-booted feet and my mother's hurried-kitten heels before I see them, so I mustered up enough energy to put a false smile on my face. My mother knew better.

"DAAAADDDY!" Everett screeched before he launched himself into my open arms.

"Hey dude! How was school? Got a lot of homework?" I questioned half-heartedly.

"Gah, yes. That stupid Mrs. Whitlock gave us soooooooo much math homework. Now I have to do all this work. Ugh." He dramatically opened his folder and gestured with his hand to show me two worksheets on double-number addition. I coudln't help but chuckle at my son's theatrics.

"This is no big deal! It's alright. We can work this out. This stuff is so easy, even Uncle Emmett can do it." I smiled at him, for the first time in a week. I snuck a peek at Esme, and she was beaming. She was such a proud mother and grandmother.

I looked over my son's shoulder and fixed my eyes on his mother and wondered if she would gaze with pride too. If _I_ hadn't put her in the bed three feet away from me. She would look at him in adoration, and whole-hearted love. Her eyes would shine every emotion, just beneath the surface rolling around in chocolate waves and swirls. She was so easy to read. I love that about her.

"Alright Ev, let's get you situated so you can get all your homework done before you go home with Gram- E all weekend!" I peered at my mother and asked her silently if that would be fine with her. Of course, she smiled with understanding and scooped Everett up in her arms and went to sit on the aqua- green vinyl chair. I wheeled the tray, most often used for food delivery, over to where they sat, to ensure a good workspace for my mother and son. I brought my chair over to their side of Bella's bed to continue our conversation.

"Edward." Esme spoke.

"Yeah, mom?"

"How are you doing?" she prodded.

"I'm alright."

"Edward. . ."

"I. . .I just feel so helpless. I can't _do_ anything. Dad used to be able to _do_ something. He had all the connections in the hospital and. . . I just can't _do_ anything." Esme nodded with understanding.

"What do you feel like you should be able to do?"

"I want to be able to wake her up. I want to be the one to be able to get out of this funk. I want be able to see her smile. I want to hear her say my name. I want to. . ." At the mention of Everett's name he snapped his head up and showed us his progress. I shot Esme an apologetic face, as I attempted to compensate for my horrible father behavior for the last week.

"Is this right Daddy?" He asked as he shoved the paper in my face.

"Which number, Ev?" I asked to buy time for my eyes to adjust to the close proximity of the white paper.

"Number two. I think that I added right, but I still get confused with the 'carrying the one' thingy." He explained.

Doing the simple math in my head, and I answered him.

"That's right Ev, good job. Now what do you think we can do with the next one?" I shot another apologetic glance at Esme, and leaned forward to assist him throughout the rest of the worksheet.

"Ev, why don't you see what you can do with the next worksheet and if you need any help, I'll be right here. I'm just going to talk to Gram-E for a little bit. Okay, dude?" Everett nodded, as I stood up and regained feeling in my legs, first the tingling, then the burning, quickly followed by the prickling of needles. The feeling subsided, leaving me with weird balance problems. I stretched and decided coffee was needed.

"Esme, I'm going to get a cup of coffee? Would you like a cup?"

"Yes, Edward, please." She sent me a pointed look meaning 'we're going to talk about this later.'

I slightly nodded, acknowledging her request before walking out the door and into the brighter fluorescent lights and the quick-paced staff of Oak Falls Memorial.

As I walked down the hall, I faced many sympathetic looks, some from those who don't know me very well, but must have been cued in by some of the other staff.

I grumbled my way back to Bella's room, with two cups of coffee in hand. I had almost steeled myself for 'Story time with Emse.'

But when I saw her leaning against the wall outside Bella's door, I knew that this was more than a story time. This was going to be a God-damned psychology lesson. I reached out and handed her the coffee, two sugars one crème, just how she liked it.

"Thank you, Edward." She replied automatically, not meeting my eyes.

I took the space next to her on the wall, and took a sip of the half-rate, too-hot black liquid. Just like that horrible Usher song, _Let It Burn. _I needed some sort of barrier to numb me for this onslaught of emotions that Esme is about to throw my way.

"Edward, I know that you are hurting and I know that you feel helpless, but, son, this is not healthy." Esme chided.

"I know, but I just don't know what to do anymore. I mean, Mom, that's my world in there. That's who I am, completely embodied in two people. If I lose one, I don't know how I can stay whole for the other. I just sit in there, waiting to hear her voice, or see her finger twitch, and thinking that if I move, or take my eyes off her for one second, that I'll lose the chance to see her one more time." I finally confessed part of what was wrong with me, and I felt marginally better. I couldn't tell Esme that it was my fault that she was in there because that's just more hatred that I simply couldn't bear.

"Edward, I understand, but suffering in silence won't be doing you or her any justice. Talk. Talk to her, think and relive the good times, and _IF_, and that's a BIG _if,_ this is the last that you get to see of her, then you will know that it was spent well. Living and remembering the best parts. Not wallowing in pain. I am speaking from experience here." Emse placed one finger under my chin to lift it from my chest and drilled her point home. "You look like shit. You need to eat something. You're not going to waste away like your father almost did. Don't you want your wife to recognize you _when_ she wakes up?"

I remembered the story of how Esme was in a coma, and when she woke up she didn't recognize Carlisle, he was so down-trodden. His eyes were sunken in with dark circles surrounding them, his clothes swallowed him whole. He'd probably lost 10 pounds in the two weeks that she had been in the hospital. His hair had been dull and dirty, and his normal intense sapphire eyes had been dreary.

I wondered if I looked bad enough, that she felt the need to cuss and tell me about it all in the same breath. I looked up at her and settled for the last of the lecture.

"TALK. DON'T WALLOW. REMEMBER. Otherwise, I'll beat you like I did when you were 12 and I caught you and Emmett messing up my flower beds." She grinned at me.

She turned and went inside to get my son and take him to her house for the evening. The chuckling nursing staff down the hall must have heard his squeal of excitement when Esme mentioned "Rocky Road." I was just thankful that I didn't have to deal with a sugar-fired six-year old.

After I tightly hugged my son and my mother goodbye, I walked back into the cocoon that held her. I started to think about what Esme said.

If I spoke, I would show her that I was weak, that I can't do anything without her. If I talked to her, how will I know what memories to tell? What could I do or say that would trigger any kind of movement or recognition? What could I do to help her come out of this?

If I talked to her and rekindled all our memories, would they still be there for another time? I got up from my chair, and walked to the only place I knew to give answers.

The Chapel.

God.

He's supposed to help someone out when they need guidance. Well, I was here for my lantern. I needed some sort of lighted direction that didn't lead me down a white sterile corridor and into a room with a bed.

I walked through the heavy oak door and started the walk down in the aisle, and with each step I began to get more anxious. I took in the chapel itself, a classic stained glass mosaic with the virginal Mary holding a baby Jesus. The window was located on the west wall filtering a rainbow of color into the chapel.

Nervousness now began to seep into my system. And I was hit with the same question: what do I say? It's been years since I've even set foot inside a place of worship. I didn't know what I was doing.

I mean, I knew how to speak to someone verbally when they are in front of you, but to a being that you couldn't see? What was I going to do? Say "Oh hey, it's Edward. I'm curious if you would bring my wife back into consciousness with your supernatural powers?" Yeah,because that's kosher.

Next thing I knew, I was kneeling down in front of the red, plush altar, bowing my head, and clasping my hands in front of me.

Then I just started talking.

"I know that I haven't done this in a while, but I just don't know what else to do. . . you see, my wife, my absolute cornerstone for living is only a few feet away, and she's…" My hands automatically tightened until I could feel every indention of my bone underneath the skin ". . . away. She's in a coma, and I don't know what to do." I could feel the searing tears that ran down my cheeks, and my chest clenched in pain. " We took a vow in front of you and I plan to stick by it like I said I would, but I just can't do this alone." A quiet whimper escaped my open lips, now coated with shed tears.

"I need her. I just. . . need her." I exhaled and took in a stuttering breath. "I need her more than the moon needs the earth, more than the air that I breathe."

The image of me holding Everett without his mother beside me invaded my mind, and I couldn't hold my shoulders up any longer. I curled inward to suppress the ripping motion that was currently surging through my body. "I just can't. I can't do this by myself." I suddenly was viciously angry at myself and God for putting me through this. My voice was louder than my previous hushed whisper. "And you said you would always be here for me, and well I need your stability and comfort."

I punched the floor which did nothing but made me feel more remorseful for my actions. "God, I just need to be able to wake up and feel her in my arms," I crossed my arms around my torso looking for her comfort that I knew wasn't there. "I need to hear her hum while she's cooking and I need to hear her yell at me." I was openly sobbing, and I'm sure that nurses could hear me all the way down the hall. "I need it all. And I'm being such a selfish cad right now, but…" I tried to think of something to prove my point, but all I could come up with was "…she's all I need."

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**Edward sobbing? in a church. confessing to Jesus?**

**le sigh. **

**yeah. it got me too. **


	4. Chapter trois

**OH EM GEE. SHE DOES EXIST?!?!**

**Yeah, I know I'm supposed to update every Sunday, BUT school decided to douse out an extra dose of "kick me in the ass." **

_**So, mi amours, je trés désolée**_**.**

**I'm on spring break this week, and while I'm on mah cruise I'll be writing. That way ya'll will get some updates faster. **

**This as always goes to the betah. siDEADde.**_** j'adore. **_**And Amelia, yew know that I love you. I'm just trying to find you some pom-poms. **

**Now, go and enjoy some EPOV.**

**

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**

EPOV

Driving to my house when no one was there was the worst way to end my day.

Everett was off with Esme and Renée doing whatever it was that Everett had wanted to do today. Probably playing cops and robbers with a can of Lysol as his gun. This past week Esme and Renée had become best friends. They had tea and crumpets then knitted, while gossiping about the children and whatever atrocities that they were partaking in these days. Or whatever else it is that moms do when they get older.

A week ago, I had no intention of actually going through with the advice from Esme about actually speaking _to_ Bella: telling her of our life, my love for her, and the home that we'd built.

My confession in the church did a little bit of help, for me, at least. I'd bargained with myself to give it another week to see if she showed any signs of improvement,to see if God really did hear my prayer. Apparently, he's a busy dude. I still haven't heard anything from him.

Upon leaving Bella tonight, I decided that when I got home this evening, I'd find our family photo album. The album starts with our first date and ends with Everett's 6th birthday in July.

_Esme, I hope you're right_.

The drive home and my entrance into my house was all on autopilot, and I didn't notice anything until I had dropped my bag and keys on the corner table. The wooden table had more dings and dents from my keys than my workbench out in the garage. It had one mismatched leg because Bella and I couldn't make it to the bedroom one night. Despite all the fallacies in its exterior, I loved it still. It was my grandmother's, from our old house in Chicago. I'd had it fixed, refinished and polished, so it would be the best looking it could possibly be.

_Hmm, a lot like life. Who knew that you would find stuff out about yourself from a table?_

My stomach grumbled, telling me that it needed sustenance. So, first things first, I wanted to pop in a mini pizza from the fridge and feed my fatigued body.

While I waited for the pizza to warm up, I searched for our family album. Bella took meticulous care of our photos. She was always doing some sort of crafting that I think she called 'scrapbooking.' I never paid attention because it just never seemed important. Now, I struggled to recall anything that she'd said,to hear it in that sweet timbre of her voice. I'd even settle for her calling me an asshole again.

The timer dinged on the toaster oven and I slumped my way over to it, and burned my finger on the hot rack that supported my college-like prepared dinner.

One paper plate, and three-hundred and forty-six channels later, I clicked on the Florida-Georgia basketball game. After I inhaled my pizza and decided that Gator Basketball would demolish the Dawgs, I flipped off the TV and grabbed the blue cloth-covered, hand-embroidered book that housed the recorded version of our life.

I stared at it for a while, debating with myself as to if I can open it and see her smiles: the happy, genuine one, her posed smile, and her adoring-loving smile that she sends my way when I look at our family photo above the mantle or play with our son. There's a smile that says 'come rescue me' that she usually uses with the PTA parvenus or with my Uncle Bruce when he's talking about his fish-farming business. A smile that she uses when she's pissed but is trying to hide it, that's the one that Ev usually bears the brunt of, because I had just done something to piss her off.

To see this much of her, I needed a little courage. I whipped out my stash of Wild Turkey along with a low-ball glass, unscrewed the lid, and poured myself two fingers. I downed it and poured another two.

Letting the bit of Kentucky love do it's magic, I reached over to grab the book.

I opened it, and was completely accosted with her smell. _How did it get in here? How did it stay?_ That beautifully wonderful aroma that had my heart beating frantically, and that reminded me that she is real and not a figment of my imagination.

Pushing down the threat of tears, I tucked the album under my arm, grabbed my glass, and walked over to the baby grand that I also had taken from my mother's house.

I stroked the wooden cover lovingly, recalling my first lesson on it. I couldn't help but grin at the memory. Mrs. Drennan was such a bitch, always making me practice for hours on end.

"Edward, did you not practice this week? You know that you must spend ninety minutes a day practicing if you wish to improve," she wagged her acrylic fingernail at me with the other hand firmly planted on her hip.

That woman couldn't speak in a normal decibel. I swore that she could awaken dogs with her voice. I didn't remember much about her playing, but apparently, she was phenomenal. Just as long as she didn't speak.

I set my glass down on the left side and placed the opened album in the sheet music cradle. I slowly sat down on the bench that Bella had bought for me. Not many knew that she had it branded on the bottom. She wasn't really all that religious when she was younger, but she heard one hymn that she said had always brought a smile to her face. 'May it be a sweet, sweet sound, EC' is on the bottom of my bench to forever remind me that when I sat on this bench, I would only produce beautiful music. For her.

Lifting the cover, I let my fingers touch the often forgotten beauty that I now sat in front of. I watched in amazement as I began to feel closer to home with every plunk of the keys.

I looked up and there she was. Smiling at me. On our wedding day. She _is_ home.

Tat smile would get me to do anything it wanted. It was the light in my world. The moon to my stars. All of it. The only thing that I am dependent upon.

My eyes started to sting, but I willed my fingers to continue to glide across the keys, to harmonize and echo the magnificence of her smile.

Tears streamed down my cheeks. My fingers started to slip on the keys, but I couldn't seem to stop this melody that flowed so freely from the core of my being. Just at a glimpse of her smile. My smile.

I looked down to memorize the notes as I played them, but I couldn't see them.

I saw the black keys, equivalent to my soul without her; the white keys, purely demonstrating her life, her being, her personality, and then I saw my tears. Water, salt, and emotion, the only possible way for the two to coalesce.

The black keys stole a part of the white. They have shoved their existence into the white; teeth eating away at the perfection of the ivory. Infiltrating the innocence of the white, corrupting it with it's malicious intent. The ebony trying to be good and pure like the ivory, trying to show her that they can and will be one.

And the only time in which it can be like the other is when they work together. Harmonizing and balancing the melodies with its sound, while still being it's complete opposite. One larger and untainted, the other smaller and sullied.

All ebony wants is to be close to the ivory.

The next morning, I woke with my head pillowed on the keys of my piano, and the photo album clutched tightly in my hands.

I fought the sleep that had cemented my eyes shut, then peeled my face off of the keys and took a deep breath.

When I was able to refocus, I looked up and saw her face.

This picture was from our first year of marriage. It was our first camping trip. She had never been camping before. Ever. I scoffed at her and told her the next weekend we were going, just me and her. We woke up at 6 a.m. to go to my favorite spot.

It was a small area just north of us in Canada, and it wasn't known by many. My family and I used to come to this part of the mountains when we had one of our "family vacations." I hated them throughout my teen years, but now that I was older, I wanted so many more. I hardly got to spend time with my parents anymore,and we live in the same fucking town too.

The first eight hours, Bella had learned that there were no flushing toilets, no sinks, no showers, no grocery store, and everything that you ate or washed or wiped with, was natural.

This picture however, was from the first morning. Bella had been curled up in her sleeping bag, fetal position, whimpering in her sleep saying "my bear's ass will see green." I couldn't help it. I had to grab the camera to take the picture of her. I'd unzipped the backpack slowly, so I wouldn't wake her, grabbed the camera and turned it on.

I'd forgotten about the start up music and it had woken up my sleeping beauty. She'd had a disgruntled look on her face and when she saw me awake and making noise, she was not happy. She got even more pissed when she had seen I'd had the camera in my hands.

She'd scowled at me and lunged for the camera at the same time I'd snapped the picture. Her face in this picture was one of pure ferocity. Her eyes are bright with amused anger and her lips are curled into a snarl fully bearing most of her front teeth.

It would make a WWII veteran cry.

We'd always joked about this picture and how no animal would mess with her; she'd scare the shit out of them before they got close enough.

I laughed. A full belly-hurting laugh.

I remembered what it was like to wake up with her in my arms and see her sleepy smile in the morning. How she would grumble "g'morning" to me, groaned and she would just lock her arms around my waist when I tried to move away. She was such a cuddler. And I loved it. _No, I love it._

I heaved myself up off my piano bench, grasped the album, and headed into the kitchen for breakfast. I picked up a quick pop-tart, scarfed it down with a small glass of milk, and headed upstairs to finish getting ready to go see Bella.

After the three S's, I was ready to go.

I had the album tucked under my arm and a slight spring in my step. I wanted to believe that this new idea or action would bring her back. For the first time in three weeks, I had hope.

I locked up the house and turned to my Audi, when my phone started ringing. I glanced at the screen and it showed me a hilarious picture of Emmett at his wedding reception. He had a bottle of champagne in one hand and Rosalie's garter belt around his head like a sweat band. He was belting out "I Will Survive" with some of his EMT buddies.

I smirked and hit send to connect the call.

"Hey Em, what's up?"

"_Wow, you sound chipper, did something happen yesterday or last night?" _He sounded concerned.

"Nah, but I have a plan. And I think that it might work, so I'm looking up."

"_Of course, you have a plan. It's your nature. So, um, I was wondering if maybe I could stop by Be-the hospital room today to see her."_

"Yeah man, I bet she'd like that. She always did like you. I don't know why though…" Bella always loved to joke around with Emmett, as he would always fall into her traps. Plus I think it was good for her to joke around with him. He was the big brother type. Giant. Loyal. Occasionally mean. Likes to play practical jokes, usually on me.

"_Well, what can I say, the ladies like my goods," _ I could just imagine him huffing on his finger nails and polishing them on his shirt.

"Emmett, this is my wife you're talking about." I growled back at him.

"_Aw, shit. Yeah man, I know. It just felt good to joke around with ya. I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by it. I miss ya man. You've been totally M.I.A. lately and I've had to deal with Rosalie all this time. MY, uh, DARLING LOVE OF MY LIFE, ROSALIE. SHE'S THE ORANGE OF MY EYES." _I chuckled at him on the phone because I guessed that Rose walked in while Emmett was on the phone with me and heard his comment. Of course, he chose now to make up for it, while I was on the phone and he's yelling into the receiver. _Thanks Em._

"Yeah, I know Em. It's not intentional. I just got a lot going on right now. But I do want to ask you a favor. Could you bring over any photos that you might have of Bella? It's part of my plan."

I heard whispering on the other end of the phone and then a lip smack. Sounded like Rosalie forgave him. He wouldn't be on the phone for too much longer.

"_Okay Eddie. I gotta go. Talktoyoulater."_

And with that he hung up. _Figures._

I turned back toward my car and hopped in. Before I started the engine, I looked ahead, took a deep breath and gave myself the pep talk that Emmett gave me the night I asked Bella to marry me.

"Stop being a douche. Grow a pair or I'll start calling you Edwina. Go getcha girl."

_Yeah, I'm ready to see my girl. I've got a life to tell._

_

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_

**So what'dya think? Eh? Things get tah looking good? **

**What'dya think is gonna happpppen??????**


	5. Chapter quatre

**Yeah, I know. **

**:insert apology here: **

**I am to incredibly sorry for the way that my negligence has caused you distress. I'm still here. I promise. Just some shit has been going on in my RL. And well RL tends to take precedence. **

**In the last three months, -le jen- has acquired:**

**A boyfriend**

**Another scholarship,**

**A new apartment,**

**A new job, **

**Spaceballs the movie**

**And now a cold**

**Also, someone NOMINATED me for an INDIE! :-D**

**INCREDIBLE. Really, I'm shocked because this isn't in the completed stages. Ya'll are amazing. **

**Fer cereals. **

***Hopefully* this won't take as long for the next one. . . I'm almost done with the next chapter.**

**Now, I bow out. Enjoy.**

EPOV

When I stepped into the hospital this morning, I had a spring in my step and a tune on my tongue. As I passed the nurse's station on the third floor, I smiled at them.

I bet they thought I was on uppers or something.

When I'd first started dating Bella, I'd always been so unsure of everything. She'd infuriated, challenged, aggravated me and I'd been a complete mess. I'd absolutely loved it.

And now, I got to relive that feeling.

I stopped at Dunkin' Donuts this morning and ordered my favorite combo; medium coffee and a blueberry cruller. It's like a cross between a blueberry muffin and donut. Plus, Dunkin' Donuts has the best coffee that is put in mass production. Fuck Starbucks.

Breakfast in hand; I walked into Bella's room. Her intoxicating scent still present, just a little subdued, but she was just as lovely as that fated day I'd met her.

I rearranged the furniture and placed myself beside her bed, with the table in front of me, ready to chow down and talk about the happiest part of my life.

I grinned because I knew that I wouldn't need the photo album for the first memory. But I loved looking at this photo to remind me how Lady Luck gave me a hand of pocket aces that day.

I knew this picture like I knew the freckles on my arm.

This photo showed my car; brand new Volvo, and me with the keys in hand, grinning like a fool. This was the photo that was taken at the dealership. They had a wall of pictures of new car owners that they posted after every sale.

It was my first vehicle. The first one that I had bought, without my father's or anyone else's help.

_I drove the car over to my father's office to show him my purchase when I first met her. _

_I was stopped at the corner of Wilshire and Main, humming jovially along with the radio and reveling in the "new car smell" that was all around me, when I felt my car jerk forward slightly. _

_Immediately outraged, I looked in the rear-view mirror to see who ran into my brand–fucking- new car. _

_Reflected back to me, was a giant grey-primered 1980s Buick, with the driver bowing their head to rest on the steering wheel._

_I swung my door open forcefully wanting to see the damage that this asshole just caused, when I saw that _she_ must have noticed that she had hit me and was frantically waving her hands, tear tracks embossed on her cheeks._

_The driver put the car in park, apparently not being stopped all the way, because the nose of the car jerked down and back up again._

_She flung the door open and tried to get out of the car, but bumped her head on the door jam, and then slammed her hip against the door when she was trying to bypass it to get around to the front of the car._

_Trying to keep my chuckles at bay, I concentrated hard on keeping a straight face. _

"_OH! I'm SO sorry, sir. GAH. Are you okay?" She wailed and her tears began to flow again, effectively stopping her from speaking._

"_Yes, I'm fine, just a little aggravated. I _just_ drove this off the lot." I chuckled._

_Her eyes grew to the size of small saucers and began apologizing again._

"_GOSH! I'm so sorry, I such an idiot. Is there any damage? I can pay you for it." She started back toward the car, "Lemme get a pen and paper and I'll give you my contact information."_

_She raced back to the car and returned with a giant, printed cloth bag. It looked like a carry on bag for a mother with three children. _

_She pulled out her wallet, pen and a yellow-paged legal pad. She wrote down her information and handed the legal pad to me with a shaking hand. _

_I looked up at her for the first time and realized that she was on the verge of a meltdown. Eyes brimming with more tears, saturated red cheeks, a sorrowful pull of her lips downward and shoulders hunched. _

"_I'm so sorry again. I just looked down to change the CD. I didn't know that I was--" she started. _

"_It's okay; I was just a little startled." I confessed. She still had her hand poised with the pad stretched out across the distance between us. _

_I gingerly took the pad out of her hand and began writing down my information. I glanced up at her script, and noticed everything was written in caps, and the '4' in her address was straddling the two lines on the paper._

_I looked at her and noticed that she had her left arm wrapped around her torso while her right arm rested upon it, and she was gnawing on her thumbnail. She stared blankly at the bumper of my car with a pensive vertical wrinkle in her brow. _

_I tore the page in half and handed her back the legal pad and my information, told her that it doesn't look bad, and she shouldn't worry so much. _

_I walked back to my poor Volvo, turned to wave at the bothered brunette, got inside, patted the dashboard and told Shelia—yes, in the 45 minutes I had her, I already named her Shelia—"she didn't mean it."_

_Then, I drove off._

I was such an idiot for not asking her to grab a cup of coffee or tea or _something_, just to calm her down. I mean anyone could have seen that she was visibly upset. Maybe then it wouldn't have taken six months and a broken toe to finally see her again.

_I had just gotten an internship with the Oak Falls courthouse, and I was busy doing all the "bitchwork" around the office. Copying these files, collating those presentations for a meeting in ten minutes, etc. Well on this particular day I was moving office furniture, more specifically, Harry's cherry-stained oak wood desk that weighs approximately ten full-grown elephants. _

_Harry was changing offices, from the fifth floor to the third because a window office had just opened up. And he was afraid of heights, so I'm blindly steering this behemoth desk, precariously positioned on a dolly toward the elevator._

_Once I had passed most of my obstacles, including cubbies and cloth covered partitions, I pressed the down button, and waited for the doors to open. I began to maneuver into the small steel contraption that could possibly cause me and the red oak desk to plummet to our subsequent deaths. After much wiggling, I was able to get myself, the desk and the dolly into the elevator. I pressed the '3' button and moved to stand the dolly up. _

_Then I heard a yelp. A feminine yelp._

"_OWWWWWW!" she cried. I craned my neck around to see who it was and what was wrong, but I couldn't see her. _

"_What is it? Are you alright?" I asked in a hurried tone._

"_It's my foot! GETITOFFGETITOFFGETITOFF!!!!" She yelled._

_I immediately reacted and hoisted the desk up onto the dolly so she could move her, now, crushed foot. I scooted my way around the side and again asked her if she was alright, right as the elevator dinged for my floor. _

"_Shit. This is my floor will you get off here so I can look at it? Then if we need to, I can take you to the hospital." I miraculously kept both her and myself safe while I pulled the desk out of the elevator. I propped the toe-smashing desk against the wall, and turned to take care of the ailing woman. _

_I bent down to remover her shoe, to see how badly she was hurt. _

"_It's no use, I know it's broken. I know a broken bone when I feel one." I looked up to see a petite face shielded with hair, and covered with an apprehensive look. She seemed so familiar._

"_I'm so sorry, we can take the elevator down to the garage, and I'll drive you to the hospital. It won't take long, I have connections there." I added with an apologetic smile and she seemed to relax a little bit. _

"_I'll go to the hospital later; I HAVE to turn in these forms by noon, because I was planning to buy the house on Maple." _

"_If you give them to me, I can get them through the process faster. Sue and I have an . . . understanding. I'll drop them off to the right person when we get back from the hospital." I gave her my most non-creepy smile which basically came off commonly known as a smirk._

_What she didn't know was that Sue was the woman that taught me all about my skills. It was a total Mrs. Robinson relationship and I thank God every day for it. _

"_Uh . . . okay." She conceded._

_**Finally. **_

_I convinced her to let me carry her down to my car, and I drove like a bat out of hell to get her to the hospital. I knew where I needed to go to get my dad, so I sent him a quick page telling him that I had an emergency. _

_Usually that gets his attention. I just hope that he's not stuck in some reconstruction surgery that's going to take up the next three hour block of his schedule._

_I glanced over at Bella and concluded that I had never seen someone grasp the "oh shit" bar as hard as she was doing at that moment. _

_Two hours later, she was placed in a boot and we were walking, well more like hobbling, out of the ER. She was grumbling because I had paid for her visit and hadn't left her alone since we got there._

"_I could have paid for my own visit, Edward. I'm not a child. I can take care of myself. I've been doing it long enough. And I still owe you for your car. So basically, NOW, I owe you more. UGH!"_

_My car?_

"_What about my car?" I was trying to figure out if she put footprints on the mats or stuck gum to the bottom of the seat or ripped off my 'oh shit' bar. _

_Bella ducked her head sheepishly and pretended to look at a map of the hospital and replied "um . . . well when I first moved here I was trying to sort through some things in my head . . . and I kind of ranintothebackofyourcar." _

_I hate it when women speak that fa—OH. That's where I know her from. She tapped my car a couple months back. I didn't have any damage, it was barely a scratch._

"_I didn't have any damage to my car Bella. I can show you if you want. Now, I would like to be nice and buy you lunch. I'm starving and I know that you must be. So, would you like something to eat?" _

_These last couple hours have been fun, granted that I was in a hospital. We joked, had small talk, described what the hospital coffee tasted like, and I watched her with my father and was surprised when she spoke in normal medical terminology. _

_I guess Bella had had a lot of experience in the hospital. _

_When Dad came back and put her in the boot, I thought that she was going to strangle him with her bare hands. I mean, I knew that women could have a stubborn streak, but I think that Bella's ran as deep as the Pacific. _

_But nonetheless, I wanted to know more about her. I wanted to know if she liked burgers, and if so how she liked them. I had no clue if she was a vegetarian. The few things that I did know were that she's from Canada, her mother still lives there. She speaks French, and when she's irritated, she huffs and crosses her arms and the vein on her temple pulsates. _

_And after much coaxing, I was able to take her to the Knife and Fork diner across the street. _

_I watched her every move. When she took her jacket off, she was wearing a royal blue cardigan with a light pink undershirt and jeans. When she sat down, she tried to cross her left ankle over her right, but failed. But decided to sit facing the window to her left. I sat down and watched her pick up her napkin, clean the silver and then gently place the napkin in her lap. _

_I felt kind of like I was dining with Emily Post. _

_She picked up her menu and started looking at the choices._

"_Is the chicken fresh?" she asked me._

"_I doubt it. I mean, I don't think this place really gets normal chicken shipments everyday."I chuckled. _

"_True, it does look a little dingy." She smirked back."So what do you suggest? I assume it's best to go with the burger and fries?"_

"_Yup," I confirmed with a pop of my lips, "it's the best burger you'll have in the northwest. Trust me, I've done my homework."_

"_Yes, and it must have been so incredibly tedious for you. Such a daunting task." She teased. _

_Right then Claire, the soon-to-be valedictorian of the senior class, came over to take our order. Enrolled in the local high school, she was nominated for the Cullen scholarship: one that my father, Carlisle, had founded for the student with the highest GPA to receive. It was a $2500 scholarship to assist the graduate with college tuition and books. She and I had struck up a friendship over the last couple of months when I would help her with her homework. She hated math. _

_Claire was petite, with long, brown hair, and beautiful brown eyes. She usually wore a pendant of a wolf dangling from her necklace. I asked her once what the wolf was about and she replied with a slight blush that "wolves are always better."_

"_Hey, Edward." She turned to Bella and introduced herself. _

"_So what can I getcha?" She was poised and ready with her pen and pad in hand. _

_I turned to Bella and motioned for her to go ahead. "Ladies first." _

"_I'll take your Dish and Spoon burger please, with no tomato. And a Dr. Pepper." Claire hummed her agreement and looked expectantly at me. _

"_The usual." I flashed Claire a smile and watched her as she picked up the menus in one fell swoop and yelled her order to Kevin in the back. _

_Over the course of our wait, I quizzed Bella about why she was here in Oak Falls, and what had originally brought her to such a small place. _

"_Well, I was looking for a place to start over, and Oak Falls just felt right. Aside from the whole I- ran- into- your- car thing." _

"_That's about the mentality here. We're like southern hospitality meets northwest fishing town. And I told you, forget about my car."_

"_Fine." She huffed, crossed her arms and wrapped her lips around the straw to take a drink._

_From that day forward, I was a goner._

After that lunch, I wasted no time in getting to know Bella more. I used the guise of checking up on the house papers, to make sure she didn't need anything, and I was able to secure two more lunch dates with her before I got the balls to ask her out, legitimately.

Our first date, I thought that I was going to pee my pants the whole night. When I picked Bella up my stomach was in knots.

_I already knew her address like the quadratic formula. I didn't need to look at the MapQuest printout. My heart was pounding like a gorilla on its chest. I was just so damn nervous. _

_Two weeks of innocent lunches and here I was picking up an incredible woman with an amazing sense of humor, and stubbornness that would rival a mule's. _

_I was completely falling for her. _

_Bella was the first woman in years that could meet me, challenge for challenge, rhetoric for rhetoric, wit for wit, and she spoke French._

_Any woman that could speak another language was like three bonus points. Across the board. _

_So here I sit, completely chicken shit, watching and wasting the time that I could have with Bella being a pansy. Hiding in my car. _

_I replayed Emmett's favorite tag line in my head for the seventy-fifth time this hour. _

"_**Edward, stop being a douche and grow a pair."**_

_So with that last bit of advice, I got out of my car and walked the fifty-six steps to the girl of my dreams._

_When I reached up to knock on her door, I realized that my hand was shaking. I can't believe that I'm this nervous. And then I heard him again._

"_**Edward, stop being a douche and grow a pair." **_**Gah, make that seventy-six times.**

_So, with one last flick of my wrist, I rapped three times and anxiously waited for Bella to answer her door. _

_She wrenched the door open forty-three seconds later, and took my breath away— even while trying to put on her left shoe._

_Dressed in a pale pink, flow-y dress with a small floral print on it, she radiated beauty. Taking a deep breath, I smiled at her, and asked if she was all set to go._

"_Yeah, just let me get my bag. You can come in and wait." As she pulled the door further open._

_I walked into a modest 650 square foot one bedroom apartment. It had worn wooden floors, with white cabinets that the corner paint had also worn off. This looked like my last college apartment before I came back home for this internship. _

_Her furniture was second hand, as if it had been there for years. The couch was a dingy yellow flowered print that looked as if it came from the set of "That 70s Show." _

_Bella came around the corner effectively ceasing any and all exploration of anything except her. The heels that she had put on made her legs longer and leaner, and her walk had more of a swagger to it. _

_Again, sexy._

"_I'm ready." She announced._

"_Alright, let's get going." I walked to the door and held it open for her but when she was about to pass me, I lightly grasped her elbow and bent to whisper in her ear._

"_You look marvelous."_

_She blushed and mumbled a thank you as I shut the door behind me. Bella locked the door and I held my arm out to her._

_We got to my Volvo, and I again, opened her door for her, but before she was able to sit down she noticed the one daisy I sat on her seat for her._

"_Edward, this is beautiful. Where did you find daisies here? They are out of season." She questioned._

"_I know a few people." I replied with smirk. I didn't want to tell her that I snaked the flower for her from my mother's greenhouse. That would be cheating._

_I took her one town over to Saddlebrook, to the best French restaurant within 50 miles. _

'_L'Aigre Doux' had the best food around. The place was basically the only spot that you could take a date to impress. _

_Once seated, we ordered our dishes, well, Bella ordered our dishes in her French tongue which nonetheless made me twitch thinking what else she could say. _

_Our five courses were served, eaten, and we were sipping on our last glass of wine when I heard live violin music being played. _

"_Bella," I hesitated, and looked at her through my eyelashes, "would you like to dance?"_

_Bella blushed, something she frequently does, but I wouldn't ever tire of the rosy tint to her cheeks. _

"_I would love to; however, I'm not really all that great at it."_

"_Don't worry; I won't let you fall." I raised myself up, and offered my hand to the magnificent creature sitting and looking at me with wide-innocent eyes._

"_Uh…Okay." She conceded. _

_As cliché as it was, the strings were playing "La Vie en Rose." I hummed the notes to Bella as I had her wrapped around me. Her hand on my shoulder burned fire into my skin, her small petite hand wrapped in mine made me realize exactly how fragile she was. _

_My cheek rested against her temple, I was able to take in her scent: a mixture of lilac, sunshine, and a hint of berry. I also felt every single one of her curves, slight as some may be, but still absolutely perfect._

_After the dance she asked me for another. _

"_Always," I replied. _

The next three weeks I saw Bella as much as possible. We went on a total of six dates. Each to do something different. We went to the park and had a picnic; I made the food for it. I took her to the museum in Seattle to see the newest Rousseau exhibit. Bella and I took a hike through the mountains. I took her horseback riding. However, that one night we decided to stay in at her house and watch a movie.

_Battling the normal butterflies that usually accompany me whenever I spoke to Bella, I knocked on her door. _

_Tonight was the most personal date that we've had. Tonight we'd be in her house, on her sad furniture, with the lights off, watching some movie that I __**really**__ won't pay any attention to. _

_I'd been in her presence for almost 48 continuous hours, and it'd been torture. Bella was completely unaware that with every blush, I imagined what she looks like post-coital. Every time she touched her necklace, I imagined what her neck tasted like. Every touch, all of them innocent, made me want to touch and feel if every part of her was as soft as the back of her hand. _

_I felt like some teen-age kid with some hidden monster waiting to be released._

_Over the last three weeks, my poor hand and dick were almost rubbed raw. It really had been incredibly too long since I've had the company of a woman, and it was, literally, showing. As in it was beginning to look a little shriveled. And a shriveled up penis is __**never**__ good._

_And she decided to open the door on penis. _

"_Hey Edward." Bella was standing with one hand on the door, left foot on top of right, propped up next to a broom. _

_I watched her had slide down the handle of the broom stick. _

Fuck. Why does she have to hold broom with her little hand wrapped snugly around the long, hard wood?

_Not helping. _

_She tilted her head to the side and greeted me with her pleasant, innocent smile. _

"_Are you ok, Edward?"_

Of course there is, I'm imagining your tiny hand wrapped around my cock.

_I responded, "Nothing," and was invited into her house. She said she'd be a few minutes, and insisted that I make myself at home. _

_I waited and watched her flit around her miniscule apartment, while getting us popcorn and sodas. Well, I didn't watch her actions as much as I watched her hips shimmy as she walked around._

_She appeared around the corner with two sodas, a bowl of popcorn, and a blanket thrown across her shoulder. _

_Didn't know how she did it, but she impressed me or surprised me every day._

_Well, at least the last month or so. _

_After she put all the things taking up her hand down on the table, she saddled up to me and snuggled in, ready for our night of… just us. _

Ugh. See torture. Sweet, sweet, tormenting bliss_. _

_She told me that she wanted to watch one of her favorites, but if I didn't want to see it we could watch something else. _

_I decided to wait it out to see her taste in movies, and if it was absolutely horrible, I'd suggest something I know that all chicks like. 'The Notebook.'_

_Interestingly enough, it was a movie that I'd seen numerous times, my mother loved to have Mother-Son dates, and we would usually end up watching a movie, doing gardening work, cook, or something else that mothers loved to do. This movie was my mother's favorite._

_City Of Angels._

_I'll never understand. Why can't it be something cool, where I don't feel like I have a vagina when I watch it? _

_Like Casablanca. Bogey was awesome. I feel cooler because I am watching the Bogey. _

_But no, it's Nicolas Cage and Meg Ryan. The Neanderthal and the ugliest woman ever. Nicolas Cage was only good for 'National Treasure' and I curse the day that Meg Ryan came to this earth._

_She gave women the idea that faking it was easy. Cunt._

_About ten minutes into the movie, I realized that the way that her mouth formed around her hand when she took a bite of the popcorn, was incredibly erotic—sigh, I've been so deprived. I self-consciously moved so that my boner was hidden. Every time I felt that I was okay from being "caught" she would move her elbow, or lean a little bit further into me, causing me to move again. _

_This was the game we played for the whole film._

_**Focus on the film. Focus on the film. Focus on the film.**_

_So Seth is an angel. He's watching over San Fran, Maggie is a heart surgeon. Seth falls for her; he must choose earthly love or celestial duty. Blah blah blah. _

_I watched Bella, not the movie. Toward the end of the movie, I was fascinated that Bella was openly crying with large, silent, crocodile tears streaming down her cheeks, attempting to conceal her sniffles. Still, it was somehow sexy. _

_When the part that Seth is asked about his choice to become human, I recite the line with him into Bella's hair. Because I finally got it._

"I would rather have had one breath of her hair, one kiss of her mouth, one touch of her hand, than eternity without it."

_With shining eyes, Bella looked at me, sniffed, and attacked me. _

_Her hands went into my hair—God, that felt good—and her mouth was on mine. Frenzied, frenetic, and demanding and fucking hot._

_I loved what and how she was making me feel, but I know that this wasn't right. I didn't want our first kiss to be like that. She had to know exactly how I was feeling._

_I felt every inch of her, pressed against me in absolute splendor, and every surface that our bodies were touching was literally on fire for this woman. I closed my eyes, and tried to clear my head of the copious amounts of lust flowing through me. I pulled away, and slightly pushed Bella a few inches back, and looked at her. _

_I came to the realization that: I, Edward Anthony Masen Cullen, was gazing at the woman that I've waited for and that I want to be with forever._

_Always._

_I gently cupped her reddened face, part from crying, part from the feverish kiss, and brought her closer to my awaiting lips. _

_Where she belonged. _

_Always. _

**Amaaazzeballs eh? How sweet was this? I love Edward Anthony Masen Cullen. He's so cute. **

**Now, what memories do ya want next???**


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